Washed and Dried
by LaVioleBlanche
Summary: My response to an LJ prompt. Face is bored, so he wanders through the Team's new base and finds Murdock hard at work doing laundry. I think I win some sort of award for worst summaries ever. M/M


So, this is the answer to a prompt on LJ that asked for Face and Murdock on top of a washer. As usual, it is full of nerdy Easter eggs for people to completely miss. (I have no life, this is why I am full of nerdy info.) You win if you can get them all!

Random note: The song Murdock sings is called Askari. It's an old Swahili children's song, the title of which means "Soldier". You can probably find a direct translation online; my mom taught it to me when I was little and I'm too lazy to type up the English version. Soorrryyy! Please review anyway.

!

Templeton Faceman Peck strolled through the A-Team's newest hideout, a large warehouse that had conveniently come with attached housing. They had all been a little confused by the giant number 13 that was painted on each wall, but it was suitable and defensible and large enough for Murdock to keep a copter in, which had pleased him so much that he'd done an impromptu dance, thanking the sky spirits or voodoo gods or whoever. It had also come with a spacious, if pretty outdated, kitchen, which had made B.A. want to join the pilot's little boogie. But the best part, oh, the very best part that had made everybody want to jump up and dance for joy, was the fact that this warehouse had come with a fully functional, albeit equally outdated, washer and dryer set. After countless missions, the boys had all learned to appreciate the luxury of being able to wash one's clothes in the safety of one's own home. Oh, sure, there was always the laundromat, but it was kind of awkward walking around in public with loads of bloodstained, dirt-crusted uniforms and costumes and such. When B.A.'s favorite white shirt had accidentally gotten thrown in with a load of Murdock's red Hawaiian shirts, he'd snapped. They'd managed to keep him from strangling the crazy man, and it was true that the mechanic _did_ look good in pink, but Hannibal had decided that enough was enough.

So here they were.

Face meandered aimlessly; they had finished their most recent job in record time (they'd been asked to help a division of the FBI to deliver a cow- yes, a cow- to Harvard University for some crazy scientist) and now they had some free time. B.A. was flipping through an issue of American Muscle Car, Hannibal was going through their profits and losses, and Murdock was nowhere to be found. The A-Team's youngest member stuck his head into the planning room.

"You seen Murdock?" He asked his mentor.

"Nope."

Face turned and yelled into the next room, "Hey, B.A., you seen-"

"Sent that crazy fool downstairs to wash the fingerpaint outta my socks!"

Hannibal snorted, covering the sound by coughing and shuffling papers loudly. Face chuckled and shook his head as he walked out and headed for the stairwell.

He was about halfway to the laundry room when he heard the singing. It sounded like a nursery rhyme in some foreign language being belted out full-blast in a Southern accent.

"Askari eee, vitani eee..."

Grinning, the con man sped up, the song growing louder with each step as he recognized the language.

"Askari eee, vitani eee,

Amevaa magwanda, buti, kofia ya chuma, Askari eee..."

Face slowly peered around the door, still smiling, and caught sight of the singing madman.

Had anyone been around, they would have witnessed two absolutely stunning things. The first was the rare sight of Faceman's jaw dropping as his mind froze for a moment, then went into overdrive.

The second thing was Murdock.

Murdock was doing laundry.

Murdock was doing laundry and dancing along to his little song, swaying his hips and doing little sidesteps as he bent down to pick B.A.'s socks up, individually, from the floor, place them in the washing machine, and beennnnd back down to pick up another, his back to Face.

Murdock was doing all of this in nothing but his underwear.

Every time the pilot bent to retrieve an article of clothing, Face felt his pants tighten and his mouth go dry. His fingers gripped the doorframe so hard that the knuckles had gone white. And still, Murdock continued his little ditty and dance routine.

"Amevaa magwanda, buti, kofia ya chuma, Askari eee.

Mguu sawa

Nyuma geuka

Mbele tembea

Heshima kulia

Macho mbele

Gwaride hima!"

He finished his performance with a flourish and bowed to an imaginary audience. Face made a sound like "urnngh" and almost fell over. The crazy, nearly-nude man turned in surprise at the noise, then beamed when he recognized his secret spectator.

"Hiya, Facey!"

"Hey, Murdock. How's... how's it goin'?" _Be casual. Just be cool. Don't act like you want to jump him and screw his brains out._

"Just peachy, thanks for askin'!" The charming mental patient waved a purple-stained sock. "Bosco wasn't too fond of my puppet show, sadly. Billy liked it, though. And I think Boss-man was secretly delighted by it." He frowned a little. "Too bad you missed it."

"Yeah, sorry buddy," Face said with complete honesty. "Maybe later you can give me a repeat performance?"

"I guess I could," Murdock said thoughtfully. "But I don't think B.A. will appreciate it."

"Don't worry; you can use some of my socks." Peck cleared his throat and bit the bullet. "Say, Murdock... any particular reason why you're doing laundry in your skivvies?"

"Oh, well, I had to wash my clothes. They got a little messy when the big fella threw my paints at me." The Southerner smiled in that sheepishly adorable way of his.

_Don't jump him, don't jump him, don't jump him, don't jump him... _"Right, that makes sense. So, uh..." _Change the subject!_ "So what's for dinner tonight?"

Murdock dumped a handful of detergent into the machine and closed it. "A little something I'm calling Nitro Noodles with shrimp sauce, and for dessert I was thinkin' of making a pudding."

"Oh? What kind of pudding?"

The pilot turned and leaned against the machine, his abdomen flexing and releasing as he shifted, a finger at his chin, deep in thought. "Well, not butterscotch, 'cause at this one loony hospital I was at they had this butterscotch pudding that they served and it was just the nastiest stuff; completely put me off butterscmmph-!"

Face's libido had apparently grown tired of being ignored, because suddenly his lips were attached to Murdock's, their bodies pressed flush against each other like two puzzle pieces. Murdock was frozen and Face tilted his head, nipping and sucking at his friend's lower lip until, with a faint groan, the lunatic's mouth opened and the con man was granted access. Taking full advantage of this, Face used his agile tongue to begin his complete debauching of Howling Mad Murdock.

"Mmg?" Murdock seemed to be at a surprising loss for words, at least for a few moments, and Face couldn't resist running his hands up and down the lean, smooth body under him as he pressed in closer. He ran his fingertips over Murdock's nipples until they stiffened, then stroked his palms down to massage the thinner man's sharp, narrow hips. "Mm..." Murdock couldn't hold back another moan, but when he felt soft fingers begin to creep past the hem of his underwear he pulled away.

"F-Faceman! What're you doin'? I'm supposed to be the crazy one, remember? What do you think you're up to, plantin' one on me like that?" His Southern indignation was all the more endearing when he was panting, his lips swollen from the kiss.

"I'm not crazy, you're just really hot," Face said huskily. "And as for what I'm up to..." He tipped his head and let his hot breath ghost over Murdock's ear. "You're in your underwear, I'm pressed up against you, we're making out... what do you think I'm up to?"

Murdock shivered. "Face... This ain't a hallucination, is it? Maybe I swallowed too much of that fingerpaint or B.A. hit me in the head or Hannibal blew weird cigar smoke in my face or- or maybe I'm back at the hospital and I'm on drugs or they're using another one of those experimental treatments on me or maybe... maybe..." He started to trail off as the sweet-talking man leaned in further, a soft but dangerous look in his eyes. "...Maybe this is... real...?"

"Yeah, buddy, it is," Face said silkily. "It's real. I'm real. And right now, I'd really like to continue what I was doing."

"But-" Murdock was cut off by another searing kiss as the hands on his hips began to move once again. "But what if. What if someone comes in? Oh..." He halted again as hot lips found his ear, teeth grazing it as Face murmured.

"No one's gonna come in. We're fine. Now..." He stepped back slightly and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it onto a pre-existing pile of laundry. A few seconds later his belt landed in a corner of the room. He ground his groin against the pilot's, earning another moan as Murdock's hands began to explore his expertly tanned and toned torso. "Mmm..." Face unzipped his pants and let them fall, kicking them away. He brought their mouths together again, with such force that the insane Ranger was pressed backwards into lying against the top of the washer. Face released his friend's lips long enough to whisper, "Murdock... you taste so good..." before reclaiming them as he tugged the waistband down on the madman's briefs. He kissed and sucked and bit a line down the pilot's throat.

"Face..." Murdock gasped, his fingers tangled in his companion's perfectly-groomed hair. "But Face, they could hear- or- or somebody could be watching on a secret camera or there could be invisible spies in here-" Again, he was silenced by the con man's mouth as it found one of his nipples. He whimpered, bucking.

Face shushed his friend. "Nobody's gonna come in here, HM. It's just us." His eyes took on a dangerous glint as an idea came to him. He hooked his arms around the lean waist and hoisted Murdock up onto the cool surface of the washing machine. The elevated man glanced down in surprise.

"What-"

In three quick movements, Face yanked the pilot's underwear down, dropped his own briefs, and twisted the knob on the machine to HEAVY SOIL. Before the madman could move, he had leaned in again, trapping Murdock with his body as the washer rumbled to life.

"Wait, Face, what's- oh. Oh! Ohh, th-that f-feels s-so..." Murdock's voice hitched and he squirmed as Face grasped him and began to stroke, just as the machine began to vibrate. "Oh, j-jeez, shit, _Face_-"

"That's it," the con man purred, slowing his movements to create deliciously agonizing friction, making the lean man throw his head back. "Beautiful." Face sped his hand up, grinning when Murdock bit his lip and whimpered.

Without ceasing his movements, the larger man glanced quickly over each shoulder, then grabbed a bottle of Delirium's Non-Toxic Fingerpaint in Endless Blue from the floor. He poured it carelessly over his fingers. Placing another kiss on the pilot's throat, he slid two digits inside. Murdock grunted, eyes closing, brows furrowing.

"It's okay." Face scissored his fingers and the lunatic gasped again. "It's okay. Relax." Licking his lips, he pulled his hand away and lined himself up.

"F-Face," Murdock's chest heaved. "I-I dunno if- Aaah! Oh! Ohh, god, fuck-!" He moaned, ankles banging against the machine with loud, metallic clangs as the smooth-talking Ranger thrust into him in one swift motion.

Face held himself in check for as long as he could, giving his friend a few seconds to adjust, then rocked his hips upward. Murdock gave his famous howl, his eyes wide with ecstasy and his toes curling until they wickedly, Face pounded into the pilot, his own eyes rolling back. "Aah, Murdock, ah- fuck, that's so good... _god_, yes."

He leaned in and increased his pace, grinding his hips and trailing kisses across Murdock's chest. He fumbled with his hand, groping a line down HM's torso until he found the Southerner's erection, pumping it in time with his thrusts until Murdock arched his spine and screamed. Feeling the tight heat around him contract, Face cried out, grabbing hold of his friend and dragging him in for another kiss as they came together.

Eyes closed, his breath rushing in and out of him like a tidal wave, Murdock clung to Face like a lifeline. The con man ran his fingertips lightly down his companion's sides, then pulled out and helped him down from the washer. Murdock examined the numerous bite-and-suck marks on his chest and neck, then let out a cry of dismay that made Face whip around in alarm.

"Aaw, Facey, lookit what you did!" The escaped mental patient gestured to the blue paint that ran down his thighs. "I'm gonna be making blue number twos for a week!"

Face laughed at that, giddy with release and happiness, until Murdock looked up at him with a deadly serious expression.

"Y'know, Face... this means I'm gonna have to do a lot more laundry."


End file.
